


I for an Eye

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual, Cunnilingus, Duct Tape, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, F/M, Gags, Held Down, Kidnapping, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Sam and Dean kidnapping you for a trade-off.  While you don’t make it easy for them you are, thankfully, as awesome as they'd hoped.<br/>What's more, they feel the need to pay you back.  Everyone benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my tumblr account

You slipped your hands under the chest, trying to find the best angle to lever him off your body.  The guy was huge as a human, but nothing compared to the bulk he’d thrown at you as a werewolf.  Stank just as bad though.  

You were sweaty and exhausted, still shaking from the adrenaline.  Wriggling and pulling yourself out from under him you almost lost a damn shoe, but there you were, puffing on the cold dusty concrete of some random basement, the only living thing in the house.   _Go me._

You took a little break, let your mind go blank as you rested, then realised you were smiling coz your awesome brain was dangling the memory of gummy bears in the glove compartment.  So you fished around for your gun before making your way up the stairs.

You’d finished wiping your prints and were just checking the fourth body in the front room when the front door burst open.  You snapped yourself toward it, aim sharp.

Two silhouettes cut a tall form before you.  One of them flicked on a switch, and before you could adjust to the light you barked “Hands up!”

They obliged, the shorter one dropping a bag, and you took a few moments to look them over.

_Fuck.  Very tall and handsome, and tall and very handsome…  Let’s hope they’re friendly._

“What do you want?” you asked.

“Okay, go easy,” the taller one said carefully. “Are you Y/N L/N?”

“What do you want?” you repeated coldly.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” he replied.  “This is Dean.  Have you heard of us?”

You paused, because you did know who they were, but you weren’t confident they brought good news.  “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Dean replied.  “Garth said you might need some help, and we were nearby.”

“Well,” you lowered you weapon, “you’re a bit late for that.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking around as he closed the door. “Looks like it would’ve been a good show.”  And there was that smile, the second thing you’d heard about Dean Winchester.  You did your best to look unimpressed as you stowed your gun but between the adrenaline of fighting and the looks of these two, you were kidding yourself.   _Eyes on the floor, Y/N._

Sam seemed much more on the job, and spoke formally. “Would you like some help with cleaning up?” he asked as he stepped around the place, looking it over.

“No, thank you,” you looked about.  “I’m confident this is everyone, and it’s their own place.  Or the one they’ve been renting, at least. The fridge is packed like a horror props store, so I’m not that fussed about the investigation.”  You came to the middle of the space as Sam returned from the basement door, the rush starting to wear off enough for you to want to call it a night.

“That’s four bodies,” he remarked.  “All werewolves?”

“Yeah,” you replied, Dean soon standing a little to your side. “Sure growled like it.”

“That’s a lot for one woman,” Dean added, barely hiding the flirt, “Garth said you were good.”

You almost frowned at him, but a smile betrayed you and you scoffed, clearing your throat to cover it.  “He sure is generous,” you nodded, beginning to wonder if you even cared to resist this guy.

Dean cleared his throat too, and then seemed to fall serious.  “So, Y/N, Sam and I have a sort of favour to ask of you,” he said it like a confession and pinched his lips.  

You felt Sam close behind you, so close his jacket brushed your hair, and found yourself tense warily.  “Oh yeah, what do you need?” you asked, the instinct to move making you lean forward slightly.

He glanced above you, at Sam, and looked at you solemnly before saying “Forgiveness.”

Sam’s arm wrapped around your torso, long fingers a vice over your elbow, and his hand covered your mouth, pinning you to his hard chest. Instantly, you fought, dropping your weight into him, twisting into his hold, kicking his shins.  Your heart raced in fear:  Something had to be wrong, surely you would’ve heard if they were this dodgy.

Your muffled cursing and vicious thrashing had only made Sam grunt in reply.  You hadn’t noticed Dean but suddenly he was in front of you, focused and grim.  Sam’s grip slid to your jaw, holding your head still. You began to yell obscenities at him through clenched teeth, making all sorts of punishing promises as you pitched against Sam’s hold.  “What the fuck are you doing?!  What’s going on?!  Are you _you_?  Are you possessed?”  You spewed angry questions, getting no reply before Dean’s fabric gag was pulling at your lips and tied behind your head. You repeated Dean’s name in question, Sam bending as you leaned forward, his long hair tickling your ears while his bear hug trapped you like a sleeping bag.

Dean turned back to the bag, pulled out a roll of duct tape and tore off a piece before smoothing it over your burning lips and cheeks, sealing the strip of fabric between your teeth. It seemed a bit like overkill, but it did shut you up.

You paused, puffing through your nose, feeling Sam’s chest heaving in back of you, his warmth and the smell of both of them everywhere.  In that moment, held between two men so fecking fine, this situation might be right up your alley.  But context matters.

For a moment, you thought you caught a sorry tilt in Dean’s eyebrows, but it was gone if it was ever there. “You just keep fighting, okay?” he pointed.  

You frowned at him, confused: _Was that a warning or advice?  What the hell?_

Sam slipped his hands to take your wrists, and in that moment you flailed, sliding between them toward the door, but Dean wrapped an arm around your waist - “Woah-woah-woah-woah” - and fast got a good hold.  Sam snatched your wrists with a bruising grip, and they somehow almost swapped places as Dean helped Sam hold your arms under one of his with his back to you.  Neither of them had said anything more, but while you waited for Sam to tape your wrists together, having surrendered momentarily, Dean pressed your head toward your shoulder, his cheek against your ear, his heavy breath almost in sync with yours.  It felt like comfort but your brain screamed manipulation, and you were getting angrier by the minute.

Sam turned to you, a hand on the binding, and all three of you breathed for a moment as Dean let you go from the bear hug to grab a handful of jacket and take your gun from your waistband, tossing it into the duffel bag.  Sam looked at Dean and twitched the slightest nod before making to leave.

You took the window, shitty through it was, and bolted, snatching the leather from Dean’s grip and heading for the back door.

“Son of a bitch!” he griped.  “L/N!”  

You dashed, jumping bodies and bloody puddles, skidding through the kitchen and sliding to the exit, but Dean was right behind you.  Slamming you into the nearby wall, his hands grappling with your jacket, the full force of his body winding you against the plaster, and both of you groaned on impact.

You were shitty and defiant, as he settled a hold on front of your jacket and pulled you towards him.  “Goddamn you,” he scolded.  

You looked at him, trying to see what was inside that would make them do this, but only got a smirk.  

 _Guess how much you can fuck off_ ¸you thought.

He huffed a quiet laugh, bent over and hoisted you over his shoulder, holding you firmly with a big hot hand on your upper thigh.  You swore and wriggled while he turned toward the front door.  You bashed an elbow into his ribs, getting a little satisfaction from his “Ow!  Fuck!”  He smacked your ass, hard, so you did it again, getting a “Knock it off!”

Quickly you heard and felt tape around your ankles while Dean muttered, “This better goddam work.”

He set you on the ground, glaring at your fuming face. “I could just push you over, you know,” he snarked.  

You flipped him a middle finger, an eyebrow to underline.  “Screw you,” you muffled, which he got crystal clear.

This time, when he bent over and threaded one arm between yours and the other between your legs to hoist you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, he was not gentle, nor smooth, and you grunted and swore at the discomfort.  For all the muscle you could feel, he was still damn boney.  The only consolation was that your shirt had ridden up:  you could feel the back of his head and soft stubble of his neck against your waist and it was oddly intimate.  You tried not to dwell on it.  Or on how damn fine he smelled.   _Fucker._

In the misty darkness, Dean carried you down the path, stood you behind his car and put you in the trunk.  Although he took the courtesy to guide your head to the carpet, he and Sam gave you blank expressions and indicated nothing.  

That was the last you saw of a Winchester for hours.  Muffled music, dank airlessness, no padding, no heating, no bathroom, no food or drink after a taxing night… by the time they opened the trunk again you were more pissed off than you could ever recall.

The morning light was so bright it made your ears ring. “Okay, pit stop,” Dean announced. He swung your ankles over the fender, pulled you up by your arm and yanked you to standing before unceremoniously carrying you to a motel room exactly the way he’d done it before.  Holy hell, if your bladder didn’t break over his shoulder it would be a miracle.

He walked through the room and into the bathroom, Sam closing the door behind him, where he plonked you on the toilet lid.  “No windows,” he said, “no lock and no funny business.” He pulled out a knife and sliced off the tape from your ankles and wrists, that ridiculous exemplar of a face frowning as he worked.  You noticed his hair in the light, a few freckles, and cursed him for scoring such a good hand in the looks department.  “You got fifteen minutes,” he reported, pointing the knife at you in gesture, and snapping you out of your study.  “Don’t try anything coz I will come in here ready to swing.  Clear?”

You nodded, seething.

“Atta girl,” he said, rising and knocking on the door for Sam to let him out.  

You tried the lock anyway, even though he’d been honest.

Taking off the gag came _after_ using the toilet, but with the shower you took your time, or so you thought.  Once you’d dried, redressed and knocked on the door, it was opened to the both of them, Sam remarking, “Ten minutes.  Not bad.”

“Come on,” Dean motioned you forward with two fingers, “out here.”

You hesitated.

“You want to do all that again?” he warned.

You stepped forward, shrugging, both of them keeping a short distance.  “You think I can’t take on you two?”

Dean swung a pair of cuffs around his finger saying “Don’t figure you’ll get too far once you’re wearing these.”

“You know what they say about the things you bring to a fight,” you countered.

Both of them smothered small smiles.  “You going to let me put these on you?” he asked smoothly.

You looked at the cuffs and considered Sam.  “I’m not going to just _let_ you cuff me without knowing why,” you said, annoyance clear in your tone.  “What’s going on?”

“Can’t tell you sweetheart,” Dean shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Okay.  Then, um… let’s see… fuck you.”

Dean took a deep breath, his expression falling, however Sam reacted swiftly and more viciously than you expected.  He grabbed your throat, pushing you up against the wall and held you there, yet not pressing hard enough to choke.  With both your hands on his wrist, it was easy for Dean to snap on the cuffs.  Sam frowned at you like you should’ve known better, and slid his hand down to your chest to ease the threat.  “Bite me,” was all you ground out.

“We’re going to have to do this again too,” Dean said as he pushed a knotted strip of fabric between your teeth and tied it behind your head, much to your irritation.  “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

 _How it is that these two can move a bound body between a car and a room without anyone noticing or caring - twice?!_  You frowned at the road ahead of you, occasionally popping out from between their big shoulders as the car took the corners.  You watched where you went in relation to the town but at some point the drive went through hills and valleys with such meandering soft turns you had no damn idea where you were.

Then a road presented itself, and soon a cabin.  By now, some sort of trade-off seemed obvious, but you couldn’t figure out what, or why.

Sam dragged you out the passenger side and held you so tightly your toes barely touched the steps of the porch.  Inside the cabin, once your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see a smarmy, business-like man sitting by the table with a copper bowl and various hoo-doo ingredients upon it.

Sam planted you next to him and greeted the man. “Jeffrey.”

“Sam,” he nodded as he stood.  “Dean…  So, human trade.  I wasn’t sure the Winchesters would lower themselves to this,” he sneered.

You turned, but almost slammed into Dean.  He spun you around and held you in place by your shoulders.

“Well, good luck,” Sam smiled coldly.  “She’s a runner.”

Jeffrey chuckled lowly, “Excellent.”  He looked you over.  You felt all your skin try to leave.

“You got the gem?” Sam asked.

“Right here,” he sang, pulling it from his pocket. It was iridescent white, the shape of an eye inside glinting in the light.

“Okay then,” Dean said sharply.  He turned your shoulders to him and held up a tissue with two fingers.  “This is for you, sweetheart,” he said, and stuffed it into your jeans pocket saying “Coz I know you’re gonna miss me.”

You scowled. “You’re ang ath-hole.”

“She is going to walk over here,” Jeffrey instructed, “and I will toss you the gem.”

“No,” corrected Sam, “She will stand in the _middle_ and you will toss us the gem.”

“Hm,” Jeffrey considered.  “Well, start walking darling; that’s the only part we agree upon.”

You swallowed and looked at Sam, his countenance indifferent.  With no allies and little protection, you stepped slowly, throwing one last cursing thought at the piles of shit the Winchesters turned out to be.  

As soon as Jeffrey could reach you, he opened the door with a gesture and flung the gem outside.  His fingers grabbed your arm and he snarled, “I’m done with you two,” throwing the Winchesters onto the porch, slamming and locking the door after them.

You thought you heard your name, and some other calling and scuffling out there, but decided to look after yourself.  Almost instantly, though, Jeffrey had you against the wall with his powers.  He stepped closer, your mouth curling in disgust at him.  He pressed fingers to your temple and you winced as he flicked through your memories, moving backwards till Dean opened that door at the werewolves' base.

“Huh,” he peered at you.  “Well, you can just wait here while I get things ready,” he said to himself and turned back to collect ingredients for the bowl.  With only half his mind on pinning you, there was enough give to check your pockets for hairpins or paper-clips – things you usually kept littered throughout your wardrobe.  But instead you found a neat little handcuff key in your pocket, right behind the tissue. _Holy fuck._  Frantically, you fished it out, using all your fingers to keep it close and steady as you unlocked each cuff.  

“Alright,” Jeffrey muttered to himself, “now you.”

He collected a dagger and reached over to you, but you threw the cuffs and gave him a face full of fist.  Stunned, he reeled back, indignant and cursing.

You slammed your hand down on the edge of the bowl, flipping it off the table and spraying its contents across the floor. “AaaaaAAAH!” he screamed, arms open at the loss. “I’ll rip your face off!”

Grabbing the first thing you could reach – a powder like cinnamon – you threw it at his eyes, blinding him quiet effectively.  

Light broke into the room.  You felt your arm grabbed – _again_ – before Dean’s form lunged past you.  He rammed a knife into the demon’s chest, Jeffrey flickering orange and yellow flames from within before he crumpled to the floor.

Dean stood over the corps and turned at you, knife still in his hand.

He looked at you, a thoughtful smile blooming.  “You did real good-“

Your punch knocked him back and his heels caught on the body, sending him sprawling on the floor.

Sam’s shadow filled the doorway behind you, but you ignored him for now. You undid the gag from your head and watched Dean pull himself up to standing, blinking and feeling the blood trickle from his nose.

He swallowed, his eyes adjusting to your dark glare, before carefully trying to calm you. “Now, Y/N-“

“Where is my _fucking car_?”


	2. Chapter 2

You glared at Dean and Sam answered from the doorway behind you. “Your car is back at the motel.”

You turned slightly, flicked a cold glance at Sam and walked to the kitchen.

Dean began again. “Y/N, that stone-“

“No,” you cut him off, opening and closing cupboards. You tested the tap, half aware of the brothers moving so they could watch you from over the countertop. You found a jar, filled it, downed it, checked more cupboards. “Old fucking condiments,” you muttered.

“We had to-”

“Shut up.”

You found a tall square bottle. “Bingo.” You dropped a double into the jar, took a swig, spat it out and had another go. “Aahfuck that’s flammable,” you groaned, rocking back with a hold on the sink. You finished it off and headed out, the brothers turning to watch you storm past.

Before you’d even gotten to the door, Sam was trotting up beside you. You sensed his intention to speak, maybe heard him open his mouth, and turned, swinging up to slap him a shocker. He stumbled back, the force hitting his head more than turning his cheek.

“Ugh! Wow, you’re just gonna smack me in the ear there-“ he said, hand on the spot.

“Get me to some food,” you called over your shoulder.

You noticed the crushed gem on the ground and continued on to the car, getting in the back seat.

Sam and Dean trudged after you, got in, glanced at each other and chewing their cheeks over what to say. Sam put his elbow over his seat, turning to make a calm go of it. “Y/N, we have good reasons for doing that.”

“I bet they’re stellar,” you answered. “But you know what, I’m actually gonna take a nap coz that’s how fucked up I am right now.” You looked at Dean, “Drive to food.”

He glowered back via the mirror and watched you lay down, pull a blanket over yourself. You settled in to ignore them should sleep evade you…

> _“Hey Sammy, you got a minute?”_
> 
> _“Yeah, what’s up?”_
> 
> _“Remember when you had Y/N in your arms and that grip on her jaw?”_
> 
> _“Oh yeah, …like this?” That warmth snakes around you, Sam in a t-shirt taking his place, arms smooth and firm. The muscles ripple over his forearms. The breath from his nose cascades down your neck. His thumb and fingers lift your jaw gently, palm against your throat, angling you towards Dean’s hungry face. Dean’s heavy eyes watch you, his tongue pulling a lip between his teeth._
> 
> _Sam snuggles you into his hold, like a living sofa-chair, and brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. “What did you hope would happen next, Y/N?” Deep voice in the back of your neck._
> 
> _Your heart is thumping. There’s nowhere else to look. Your lips part for something, and you feel Dean’s fingers slide up your hip, his lashes flicking between your mouth and eyes. His breath warms your skin. Sam pulls you tight again himself, his eyes on your face as Dean nears._
> 
> _“Hold her still Sammy”-_

“Y/N,” you heard Sam’s voice outside your body. “Y/N, we got food.”

But the aroma of meat – burger! – was what made your eyes snap open. You sat up without thinking, reaching out already and Sam hurried to hand it over.

You took the first bite and chewed thoroughly, enjoying it, swallowing it, and breathed. And then slayed the rest.

Sam and Dean ate in front, both half turned to see you. Dean passed you a bottle of juice, which was the first time you made eye contact since you punched him. You were still angry, Dean was still defiant, Sam was still sympathetic. Both of them were still stupidly good looking.

As Dean scrunched up his food wrappers he matter-of-factly said “You know, we really don’t have to give you an explanation. We did the right thing.”

You scrunched up your wrapper - Dean rolled his eyes at what was coming – and piffed it at his head when you countered, “The ‘right thing’, asshole, includes explaining yourselves.” You took a drink, “And if you want me to not strangle Garth with his own legs, you should answer my questions.”

“Fair enough,” Sam agreed. “Shoot.”

“Don’t say that,” Dean muttered.

“Did Garth lie to me too?”

“No,” Sam said seriously, “We didn’t tell him. We only said we needed someone who was good, a woman, who would work outside the box, so to speak.”

“Someone who would listen to reason,” Dean said, not a little pissy, “was the phrase I think.”

You shook your head. “Awesome. Why didn’t you come to me last month and say ‘We’re going to kidnap you, act like you’re surprised’?”

“No time,” Dean answered. “This window opened up days ago. That’s not enough time.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Did he read your mind?” Sam asked. You shrugged back a nod. “Yeah, he would’ve detected that. In fact I think, unless you are a supreme actor, any knowledge of this coming, the risk of sabotage for him, would’ve put you in too much danger. If he’d even detected you were in on it, he’d have killed you and come after us.” Sam finished his food and thought further. “And this way, you were fighting. Not coming out of a drug-induced stupor. You were fired up and ready.”

There is no way you can paint this pretty, you thought, and Sam seemed to read your face loud and clear. “Why a woman?”

“He wanted a vessel for someone, not sure who, but his demands were specific,” Sam described. His tone grew serious. “The stone, the one we crushed, it was used in a ritual to summon a spirit. The last time that happened four families were, well, shredded. And that’s just this decade. We wanted to do the trade and figured our best choice was to get someone who was likely to escape.”

“Wouldn’t a hunter be risky for him?” you wondered.

“Knowledge,” Dean stated. “Inside knowledge on hunters.”

You sighed a quiet “Fuck” and rubbed your eye, beginning to see their side. You noticed Dean raise his eyebrows at his brother. “Don’t go getting all superior about it. It was still a shitty thing. Do you know how scared I was? To have the Winchesters going dark on my ass?!”

Dean licked his lips, looking regretful. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry it had to be that way Y/N.”

Sam turned back toward the front as Dean finished what he was saying. “But if it’s any consolation, I’m glad Garth picked you.”

He looked at you pointedly and something about it made your skin prickle. You did you best to give nothing back.

He turned, started the car and headed back to the motel.

“Wait, what was with the shower?” you asked.

Sam cleared his throat, glancing at Dean. “He, uh, wanted you to be clean.”

“Ugh my burger,” you breathed. “That shower water was delicious by the way. Would’ve gone nicely with some breakfast.”

“Sorry about that. Sam insisted there was no time.”

You didn’t really believe him.

Back at the motel, Dean asked, before you’d even closed the car door, “Y/N, let us buy you a drink.” He seemed straight about it. “You were pretty awesome, and we probably owe you one.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against his shiny baby. “ ‘Probably’? Get me my own room,” he blinked at your demand, “-you’ve really interrupted my itinerary with this shit – so get me a room so I can get some sleep and then you can buy me a drink.”

He looked at the horizon, beginning to smile at himself. “Fair call.”

With your stuff in your own space, you flopped onto the bed, pulled the comforter over your shoulder and burritoed yourself snug, shoes and bra be damned…

> _You can barely move. Sam rests his hand over the tape on your wrists. Your elbows are almost touching, bulging your breasts between them. He notices and smiles slightly._
> 
> _Dean drags his cheek up and down your ear. His bare arms are wrapped around you and you feel warmer than you should. He turns his head, taking your lobe between his teeth. “Uh, Sammy,” he murmurs, then licks behind your ear, a hungry kiss hot against you and you struggle to give Sam a look of indifference, to keep cool eyes upon his lustful gaze. “She tastes sweet up here, Sam.”_
> 
> _“I bet,” Sam answers. His finger lifts, traces a line from your throat to your t-shirt, tickling the cleavage you can’t help but present. His smile becomes ravenous and dark._
> 
> _As Dean slips his tongue into your ear, Sam’s large hands hold your knees together and then his breath is on your bare body. The tickle and exposure make your chest sink and heave, but then the tip of his tongue is peeking between your lips, licking the tip of your clitoris. You buck backwards, grunting in surprise, Dean’s grip tightening as he growls in your ear. They hold you securely as Sam lightly tips your bud, tantalising the nerves with nothing but a steady wet tap. Your voice quavers through the gag as you try to keep silent, but when Dean’s hand slips across your chest, grazing your nipple-_

“Nnnguh!” you sucked in a breath and quickly realised you couldn’t move. Rolling out of the comforter, you were now shitty at yourself too. Dreams like this weren’t helpful, especially when they didn’t actually finish.

You let the brothers drive you to the bar.

You lagged behind as you walked through the carpark, trying to organise your thoughts, form a plan. Dean was already in the booth by the time Sam got to the bar so you slid into the depth of the bench’s curve.

Dean looked you over and paused. “You look good,” he nodded, smiled a little.

You looked at him flatly and said nothing. Fucker is just too handsome.

“Oh come on Y/N. You going to be shitty with us all night?”

Sam pulled into his seat, a tray of shots and beer before him. You took a deep breath.

“What about ‘no harm no foul’?” Dean suggested.

Sam saw you frown in reply and added “Y/N, seriously, we’re sorry it happened, but we’ve explained and apologised. And we are so, so thankful we didn’t have to exorcise you too-“

“Ooh, yay.”

“-But, you know, if you can’t forgive us maybe we shouldn’t hang out tonight.”

You leaned on your elbows and thought. “You know what? There was harm and it was foul. I think if you’d thought a little harder and a little longer you might’ve come up with a solution better than very nearly sacrificing my life. I mean, if my mother were sitting here, you wouldn’t expect her to forgive you, would you?”

They glanced at each other guiltily.

You collected a glass and added, “But the bottom line is that you made a choice, you thought it was best, and I’m still here. If I worried about every coulda and shoulda I’d be catatonic. So here’s to stupid hope.”

“Amen,” Dean toasted your glass, and it was done.

The tension eased and the brothers offered up topics to keep the night rolling. You learned a few more things about the day (“You drove my car? How the hell did you fit into my car Sam?” “I know a few spells.”) and managed to get some laughs out of them. You tried not to flirt, to keep it kosher, but it was hard. Sam was just so nice, so easy and excellent. And Dean acted like he was helping you cheat at Jeopardy; everything was a set up and an offer.

At some point Sam left to get one last round. You watched him move to the bar, his shirt hanging off his shoulders. _Good God that frame. Just so much man._

Dean slid over to you a little. “Y/N,” he laid those heavy eyes on you again, “I get the feeling you’re still not completely okay.”

“Oh yeah. What gives you that impression?”

“Well, you get pissed real easy. Didn’t think you’re that type from Garth’s description. But I notice,” he says with a smile, “you say all the right things, but then you chuck in these stabs at yourself… and I think I know why.”

“Really,” you sat back and crossed your arms. _I am unaffected by you bucko._ “Amaze me.”

“You’re angry at yourself for liking it so much.” He said it calmly, smoothly, and looked into your eyes with a stillness that almost made your seams unravel.

He was right.

But you tried to cover. “Liked what?” you said blandly, tilting your head.

He leaned in so that his breath was on your neck. “Sam holding you down while I tied you up.”

You swallowed, unable to look at him, and felt your chest sink just like when Sam’s tongue had- “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he said secretly. Your eyes fixed upon Sam as he came back to the booth and Dean spoke. “Chasing you, your skin on my neck. Fuck, Y/N, the noises you made…”

You caught Dean’s gaze, one earnest and hot, as he said “Thank God Garth gave us you,” and he sat straight to talk to Sam.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean called, his tone making you flinch. “Remember Phoenix?”

Sam’s eyes snapped to him, his eyebrows twitching curiously. “…That witch hunt?”

“After that,” Dean said. He licked his lips and smiled lightly.

Sam looked at him, his eyes soon slipping sideways while he thought of what Dean was saying, and then to you. You were suspicious as all hell.

He considered his answer for a moment, then nodded a little. “Yeah, I remember,” he answered finally, and took a drink. “Good times.”

“To good times,” Dean said and offered his glass to you.

You clinked hesitantly and drank, but found that looking away from Dean was like dragging a ship through water.

* * *

 

“So, did you have anything in mind for after?” Sam asked from the front seat.

“Ugh, nothing specific,” you shrugged.

“How about some cards?” Dean suggested.

“What do you like to play?” Sam asked, which seemed a loaded question.

“Go Fish.”

“Ha, perfect!” Dean chuckled.

His eyes smiled at you in the rear vision mirror. You tried to resist, barely managing to look out the window before you gave in to his cheek.

* * *

 

With Dean on your left and Sam on your right, a drink and a hand of cards before each of you, Dean got to go first.

It was ridiculous. You went three rounds asking for actual cards. You don’t even like Go Fish; you were being sarcastic back in the car. But here you were saying “Sam do you have a two?” for fuck’s sake. And Sam was saying “Yes, here is your two.” Seriously.

Then it started to get weird. “Do you have a Queen, my good sir?” “Ney, thy can check the river for his chances.” “Samuel, does one have a knave?” “Why yes, my lady. A knave you shall have.” And you all chuckled at yourselves because _you’re playing fucking Go Fish_.

“Y/N,” Dean asked, “do you have a foot?”

“Uh… Yes.”

“C’mon then, give it up,” he gestured with his fingers.

You flung your foot over the curve of the table, thunking it in front of him, black sock and all.

“Sam do you have-“

“Steady on, cowgirl,” Dean admonished, putting his cards down. He lifted your foot by the ankle, peeled your sock off, and rested your heel on his thigh. “That is a fine foot,” he said, running his fingers over the bridge.

You took a deep breath, and adjusted your other leg to point toward Dean. “Sam, you have a six?”

“Go Fish… Dean, do you have an Ace?”

“You bet your ass I do,” he said, smiling at you. You rolled your eyes, but he pulled an ace out of his hand all the same.

Your heart raced again. “Y/N,” Dean turned to you, “do you have a hand?”

You smiled at the phrase. “You’re asking for my hand, Dean?”

“Just for the game,” he replied slyly.

You offered your nearest hand, and he reached over with his opposite arm, pulling you toward him, leading that foot over his legs and setting you on his lap.

For some reason, the fact that Sam had put his cards down had you on edge faster than anything you’d ever seen. The look he gave you as he shifted the table out of the way almost made your blood evaporate.

“Sam,” Dean moved your hair so that his chin tucked into your neck, his lips against your ear. “Sam, I think we owe Y/N more than a few drinks and a room.” He took the cards out of your hand and placed them on the table.

“Definitely,” Sam nodded, a gentle smile on his face. He seemed to want you put at ease.

“And I have to confess that I sorta let on to her that I found that kidnapping to be… well…”

“Incredibly hot?” Sam offered.

“Amongst other things.” Dean’s hands slipped up and down your waist and hips. There was enough room on the seat for him to shift himself back and sit you between his legs.

“What was your favourite part Sammy?”

“First things first,” Sam leaned forward and spoke to you plainly. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you assured him. Dean smoothed over your arms and rested his hands on yours, holding them warmly as Sam spoke. You glanced down to see what that looked like. _Picture perfect. Fuck._

“You’ve been through enough shit today. Green for good, yellow for pause, red for stop, okay? Otherwise, pinch someone or, really, do anything three times quickly, for yellow or red. Yeah?”

“Clear. Thanks Sam,” you smiled at him.

“No problem,” he smiled, then slowly leaned forward so his elbows were on his knees. “So, _do_ you want to know my favourite part?”

“Yeah,” you almost whispered.

“My favourite part was when I had you in my arms, thrashing and angry, and then when I held your chin for Dean. You made this little sound. You didn't quite give it up but... we had you.”

“You want me to return the favour?” Dean offered.

“Yes please,” Sam said and settled in to watch.


	3. Chapter 3

As Sam watched, Dean wrapped his arm around you, those ropes of muscle warm against your belly, and his fingers took a firm hold on your arm. His other hand slipped up, your eye contact with Sam unbroken, and collected your jaw, long fingertips reaching your cheeks. He lifted your face a little, in presentation. You closed your eyes, running your mind over the feeling of being fixed in place by his form. Sam moved from his chair, his hands reaching out to your knees to kneel before you.

“Like this?” Dean asked quietly.

“Yeah, perfect. Can you move, Y/N?”

You tested Dean’s hold a little. “No.”

“Do you want to?”

“Not yet.”

“Good,” he said, so close now you couldn’t see anything else but mercurial lips and calculating eyes. “Keep her still Dean.”

_Oh shit._

Sam leaned in, his lips on yours, and they were smooth and warm. They moved against you and you tried to reciprocate but Dean’s grip kept you stuck, as requested. He worked with it, licking firmly. You felt his hands on your thighs, seemingly gigantic and quickly getting to your hips.

Sam stopped and pulled back. You opened your eyes to see him watching you. Dean shifted his fingers back to the bolt, keeping you in place but allowing movement in your jaw. Sam leaned in to kiss you again and now you could give something back, hearing him moan into you as he tasted your mouth, dominating your tongue. His hands landed on your breasts, warm and generous, but rather than kneading, he lightly dragged his fingers back, drawing them all towards the nipple and grazing you through the singlet and thin bra. You breathed in against the kiss, trying to not peak too soon, but it felt exquisite, the perfect tickle. He did it again, your throat betraying a slight moan, the sensations shooting to your groin where your thighs tensed to catch it. He gazed his knuckles over them back and forth once, then drew to the tips again.

“Uh, Sam,” you moaned against him. You couldn’t help it. “I gotcha,” he whispered.

This time, when he got to the nipple, he pinched lightly but firmly enough to pull. You arched into it, breathing deep and pulling Dean with you, and when he did it again your kiss broke into a gasp, “Aah! _Sam!”_

“Uuuugh Y/N,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to your mouth, “We are saving that for later.”

Your breath puffed through your nose, drawing in the smell of his hair. He came back for a fat kiss, all lip. “These jeans look excellent on you,” he said into your mouth, “but they’re coming off.” Sam’s fingers were quick with the button and fly, and with Dean’s help they (and your sock) were off faster than you could think, his apparent erection rigid against your back. Dean released your jaw and settled his arm across your chest to hold your shoulder. Your fingers splayed on the sides of his legs, holding on tight.

Sam smoothed over your thighs again, parted them gently and lifted them over Dean’s knees, bracing you open before him.

“Mmm,” Dean moaned, spreading his legs, “that is a good idea. You green Y/N?”

“Green,” you answered.

Sam hooked his finger into the waist band of your panties. “I may ruin these,” he warned.

“Green.”

He grinned at you and your mind reeled. You hadn’t expected Sam to be involved like this. For all Dean’s flirting, this was the last thing you would’ve guessed. And it was excellent.

You dropped your head to Dean’s shoulder, panting lightly already. Sam pulled your singlet up under Dean’s arms and bunched it roughly at your armpits, your lacy bra revealed, and he kissed the flesh he could get to, his hair brushing against you softly.

“So here’s what I’m thinking, Y/N,” Sam knelt and sandwiched your head between his and Dean’s. Their skin closing over your ears made his voice seem to come from within. “I like it when a woman comes on my tongue, and my fingers. So I’m going to go to town on you down there. And then I’m going to help my brother have his way with you.”

You swallowed dryly. “There may not be much left of me.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Dean soothed against you, the timbre of his voice electrifying you, making your bones thrum. “I can be patient… and inspiring.”

Sam slipped a knuckle up and down your panties, nudging the nub already against the fabric thanks to your open position. He threaded a few fingers behind the fabric and did it again. “Mmm, warm and soft.”

“I’m gonna keep my hands put, Y/N, but it’s gonna be a struggle,” Dean muttered.

“Lift her up a little?” Sam asked quietly, and Dean hoisted you onto his thighs, groaning as you were ground against his cock. “Perfect.”

Sam nearly dropped out of view, nuzzled you, and breathed warm air against you. You rested your head back and breathed, feeling Dean’s lips on your shoulder, tongue slipping over you, his warm voice in your ear as Sam mouthed you through the fabric, “You’re gonna love this, Y/N. Don’t you go keepin’ it to yourself. I wanna put that gag back in your mouth just to keep it open an’ let me hear that beautiful voice ache.”

 _Fuuuck_.

Sam moved your underwear aside, kissed your nub lightly, then licked in circles. You sucked air through your teeth and squeezed Dean’s thighs with your hands.

“Yeah, gonna have to ruin these,” Sam muttered and tore the side seam to slide them out of the way.

Sam moved steadily, licking and nibbling around your labia. He began flicking your clitoris, occasionally pushing it against his top lip to pinch, and you unconsciously squeezed your legs against it.

“Uh-huh baby,” Dean warned, “you stay right there,” and placed a hot hand on the inside of your thigh, stroking you with his thumb.

The attention to your clitoris and the folds around it kept building, the pressure mounting, and you began quietly pleading Sam’s name in response. But then he dipped down, planting his mouth roundly over your core and plunged his tongue. Both of them struggled to keep you in place as you gasped and tensed against the pleasure. His reach was deep and articulate, and you thanked God he didn’t touch your clit then because the whole thing would’ve been cut short.

He swapped his mouth for his fingers, dipping them in further and further each time. You tried to keep your noises sensible but it was so good, and his fingers were so long. He returned to barely licking your clit, plunging his fingers in sync, and the combination had the sizzling tingle around your vulva suddenly enveloping your whole crotch, your thighs quivering, everything pulling. Your voice rose with the rhythm, “Ah, _AH, AAH! Sam?!_ SaaAAAM?!” Then he crooked his fingers inside you, grazing that spot and you pitched against Dean, his hand leaving your thigh and holding you against him. You didn’t know how much you could bear and tried to relax into the waves of ecstasy. Then Dean tucked his elbows inside yours, hinging your arms back, and lightly clamped your nipples with his fingertips, tugging. You gasped and pressed your head against his, and then Sam pressed his fingers onto that spot, pulled just your clit into his mouth and _sucked_. You screamed over the edge, blood and electricity buzzing over you like a flux capacitor.

You panted noisily as you came down, Dean’s kisses peppering your skin as he stroked your arm, one warm hand low on your belly. He relaxed his legs a little and you looked down at Sam. He’d undone his pants at some point and pulled himself out, but seemed unfinished.

You clumsily scrambled off Dean, your legs barely working, moving onto Sam like some drunken octopus and quickly guided him into you before he could protest. He sucked his teeth at the sensation, his hands wrapping around your ribs, and you rolled forward. He groaned, and you pulled his long t-shirt over his head to get it out of the way. “You’ve earned it Sam,” you said against his face, “just don’t touch my clit or my breasts.”

He chuckled, “Deal.” Gathering handfuls of your hair, he thrust up into you, and again, grunting openly on each beat, but he wasn’t comfortable with the position. “Mind if I bend you over?” he murmured.

You would miss the feel of that chest against you… “Green,” you smiled, “but will I need some help?” You looked over your shoulder at Dean, splayed out there with his cock in his hand.

“No darlin’,” he declined, “I’m gonna enjoy the show and wait my turn.” The look he gave you was positively sinful, your stomach trembling in reply.

Sam gently lifted you off, stood up, pulled you up by your hands and held you close for a deep smothering kiss. He moved you to face the table, warm hands over your shoulders, and he pushed you down, your ass now sweetly presented. His hands slid down your waist, enjoying the shape, all the way to a tickle over your cheeks. You felt him line up with your pussy and he rammed in, shifting the table an inch or two. You gasped and groaned at the fast feeling. He thumped into you, over and over, and you moaned for him in time.

Dean sat back and jerked himself off to the sight of Sam fucking you, your ass cheeks trembling on each beat, watching your curves, and thinking of how they’d be in his hands later.

You revelled in the feel of Sam’s grip on your hips, how his jeans shimmied down on each beat, the slap of him against you, and before long he’d thrust into you for the last time, pushing at depth and holding you close as he gasped and swore. His hand landed on the table by your shoulder and he panted above you. He leaned over to kiss your shoulders, moaning “Uuuh, Y/N… I’m so glad Garth sent us to you.”

Dean chuckled in his chair.

Sam found your underwear, using it to clean up.

Dean had removed his shirt and thrown it somewhere, leaving him in just jeans and a grey t-shirt. You smiled at him from where you rested on the table. He smiled back and motioned for you to come over with those two fingers again.

“That ‘come here’ gesture,” you asked, unmoving, “That your ‘come for me’ gesture too?”

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled again. “That’s it. Makes all things come.”

You stood up, pulling your singlet down for what warmth it could offer and slid into Dean’s lap, your head in the crook of his neck. He smoothed his hands over you and kissed your forehead. “That was fucking beautiful, Y/N. Music.”

“Yeah? Well, thank Sam. He was the conductor.”

“Fair point. And what instrument were you?”

“The harp,” Sam grinned, offering a glass of water.

“Oh no, good sir,” you corrected, “The mouth organ!”

“Ohhhh!” Sam hooted, “Yeah, that wins.” Dean just laughed under you.

“It’s early, you know,” you looked at Dean, “we could nap a bit.”

His eyelids were heavy on you as he circled his thumb inside your knee. Up close again, watching him think of you, it was intoxicating.

“Yeah, let’s get some shut eye,” he agreed, but the way he said it made you think you’d taken some bait.

Sam pulled on some boxers and Dean got down to his. You undid your bra through your singlet and untangled it free. Catching Dean eye off your breasts, you pointed at him “You were going to wait your turn.”

“Oh my turn starts now,” he stepped close, challenging you without touching, “I’m just taking my time.”

“If you say so,” you sighed, eyeing him off. You crawled up the middle of the large bed, while Sam and Dean approached from opposite sides. “You okay to share?” Dean asked his big little brother.

“Yeah, s’fine,” Sam shrugged.

You settled into a spot, half on your side, Sam’s body against your length with his arm slung over your hips, Dean’s head against yours with his hand on your belly. He looped his lower leg around your calf like a secret claim. Sam’s breath had already dropped deep when you flicked your eyes open to check on Dean, your lashes brushing his nose. “Sleep,” he said. So you tried.

You woke up after a while, the room dark but for a street light breaking through the curtain. Returning from the bathroom and carefully crawling back to your spot, you lay close to Dean and let Sam be. Every bit of you was awake…

“Dean?” you whispered.

Nothing.

You ducked closer his face. “Dean,” you tried again, and his breathing changed. “Dean, the next time I see you…” he opened his mouth a little and you pulled back to see him still feigning sleep. “First chance I get,” you whispered, “I’m gonna run.” His eyes opened, dark and alert.

You dragged your knuckles down his belly, his hand taking your wrist almost instantly. You tried to reach lower to stroke him, but he fought you. You strained and the fact that you got an inch or so of ground had him smiling. “You won’t get far,” he whispered back.

“You think I’ll let you catch me?”

His voice rumbled low. “ ‘You’ll let me’… Oh-ho sweetheart,” he breathed in, “you are so much more fun than I expected.”

“Huh. Good thing you’ve got Sam’s help to manage me?”

Dean lifted his head a little to check on his brother. Sam was out cold, belly down and face in the pillow. He relaxed again and you felt his thumb run a circle inside your wrist.

“What was your favourite part?” you asked.

“You called it,” he said, “Catching you. The struggle. You’re definitely a handful… What about you?”

 _Lordy, the fantasies I would confess to you…_ You looked at him in the grey light, and swallowed. “Same as Sam. The way he held me there… for you.”

He shifted closer, a leg hooking over yours. “What about… when your hands were tied?” he prompted and reached under your waist to collect your other hand, bringing your wrists together.

You tried to keep it all steady, your heart already at a jog in anticipation, and wondered if you should let on… “I dreamed about it.”

“Huh, really?” Dean shifted his body to something more ready, “Tell me.” You lay there, on your sides, live-sexting as you watched each other.

“I’m gagged, hands tied, just like you had me. My breasts are pushed together. You pin my back to your chest, fucking my ear with your tongue, while Sam holds my knees together and flicked my clit with the tip of his tongue.”

He took a few seconds. “That sounds like a good dream.”

You reached your hands forward, taking advantage of his distraction. “Then you work my nipple through my shirt-”

“Yeah?”

“Which is electrifying-” You found his erection, wrapping your hands over it, and he sucked a breath through his teeth. He tried to pull you away but your grip was good and he had to relent. “And then I woke up.”

His jaw flexed in the shadows while he decided where to go with this. “You are a handful,” he said.

“So are you,” you replied and winked to break the tension, which would’ve worked a treat if Sam hadn’t flopped himself onto his side, facing you both, and dropped an arm over you.

You stared at Dean, frozen in silence, and waited for Sam to stop adjusting himself, but it never seemed to end. Soon you were frowning, _What the hell dude? You’re sleeping, not drowning._

Then his other hand slid under your waist, took a firm hold of your forearms and he mumbled in your ear “As if I wasn’t going to get involved. Taking advantage of my poor brother like that… tsk tsk.”

Dean cracked a smug grin and he unwrapped your digits from his member. Sam quickly had both your wrists in his hand again.

“Two against one is hardly fair,” you argued, “even if I do have the best boobs. I think we should maff ah mmff mfff-“

“Y/N,” Sam said smoothly with his hand over your mouth, “sweetheart, it’s Dean’s turn to settle the debt. Let’s hear what he has to say, yeah?”

“Thank you Sam,” Dean nodded cordially. “Mighty thoughtful of you. So…” he came nearer still, “these awesome boobs you speak of…”

Dean began circling your breast through your singlet, the spiral getting smaller and closer to the peak. You twitched as he caressed the nipple through the single layer, the skin singing with it. Sam wrapped his log of a leg over yours and rutted against you a few times, his cock nudging between your cheeks and his belly. “Oh this should be good,” he commented.

Dean continued circling, starting from the edges and slowly working his way in. Sam changed positions, pulling your arms above your head and rolling a bit so that you were tilted toward the ceiling but not actually on your back. He only let go of your face for a moment and came back to that spot exactly, using it to secure your upper half against him.

“Nice,” Dean said in thanks, now able to work on both breasts easily. The glacial pace of Dean’s ministrations was becoming maddening and you bumped against Sam on the next graze, especially since it was doubled. He watched you as he gave in, slowly fiddling with just your nipples, your breath tripping over the sensations, your voice breaking through occasionally. He worked in miniscule increments, circling the ridge of the flat end, testing a slightly heavier friction, millimetres of difference between each pinch, each stretching tug, and you weren’t even trying to hear the noises you were making. Every touch was Morse code to your groin and you began to think you might come from this alone.

Dean suddenly groped at both breasts, the break making you heave a filling breath, and you let the warmth of his palms soothe you. “Uuuuuh darlin’,” he breathed, “watching you is better than anything.”

He found the hem of your singlet and slowly pushed it up your body, holding it tightly enough to tweak your breasts as it passed. Your breath wound up in anticipation and you writhed and whimpered as he leaned in to slowly tip the slightest lick on you. With a hand pinching and pulling one nipple, he licked and nibbled the other, and a large hand on your ribs to help keep you still. Your nerves felt brilliant under him and you practically cried in Sam’s hold.

Soon he wrapped his lips over you, slowly working circles, the other breast unforgotten by his thumb and finger. As he mercifully calmed the action on your breasts you felt his spare hand move south. He gently hooked his thumb into the top of your crease and eased it upwards, drawing your labia tight and letting your clitoris poke out. He flicked over the tip, the combination almost too much, and you thrashed against Sam, which seemed to only satisfy him further. He smiled against you as you swore under Sam’s hand, soon screaming Dean’s name as he tested you over and over.

Dean moved his mouth to your other breast, laving it generously after such relentless work. Then he nudged his cock into your low lips, massaging your clit, slicking himself up, slipping further and further into your warmth on each thrust. The angle was tricky with your legs pinned together but it felt delicious, his thickness being dragged over your folds, delivering such a sweet tickle.

“Open her up Sammy,” Dean ordered. Sam’s hand left your mouth and he quickly collected your knee, just as before, hooking it over his own and using his leg to angle it back. Dean went deeper. His fingers found your clit and furiously flicked over the nub, and your voice rose exponentially now that it was free.

Then it seemed Dean had had enough of the threesome. “Okay Sam,” he breathed, and suddenly your arms were loose and you were flat on your back. Dean hung above you, slowly rocking his cock against your wetness. You removed your singlet then took a moment to catch your breath and look at him clearly, pulling his boxers all the way off with your toes. You ran your hands over his torso, drinking in the sight of his lower belly and groin waiting for you. “How you doing baby?” he asked, face full of desire.

“Super green,” you replied, grabbing at his waist and sliding a hand over his ear and cheek. “It’s so good. You’re so good.”

“Mmmm sweetheart,” he slowed and leaned into your neck, biting at you as he spoke “You give me sinful ideas, you know that?” He angled himself, slid all the way in and began gently rolling into you.

You wanted more, so wrapped your legs around his waist, and held onto his neck and shoulders. “Go,” you said, “fuck me, Dean. I wanna feel it in my throat.”

He thrust into you, both of you moaning openly on it. He sucked a breath, slammed again, then paused groaning “Son of a bitch”.

“Oh fuck, that’s it! C’mon baby,” you encouraged, your hips fucking up and your heel pulling down. “Dean, _please!”_

“Christ,” he whispered. “You got it sweetheart.” And he fucked every last noise out of you.

Sam watched from beside you, the light falling across your hips and shining off Dean’s cock as it slid in and out, your breasts bouncing from the impact, your jaw tilted to the roof as you pressed your head back and Dean’s shape arched over yours. The slippery noises from Sam’s wanking were barely noticeable over your decadent soundtrack.

Dean collapsed onto you, your chests heaving into each other. You puffed and swore, both of you frowning and shiny. You unwrapped your legs one at a time and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Fucking hell,” Sam groaned. “That was pretty.”

You turned to look at him but he was already sitting on the edge of the bed cleaning himself up.

Dean lifted his head and your eyes locked, a quick moment of privacy becoming unexpectedly intimate. He dropped closer, his lips near yours, and hesitated to close the gap.

Sam got up for the bathroom but it didn’t distract either of you one inch.

“Can’t believe I haven’t kissed you yet,” Dean said quietly.

“It’s because you’re a gentleman,” you explained.

“I wanna kiss you.”

“On a first date?” you stirred.

His smile pulled sideways but quickly disappeared. He leaned in and planted his lips on yours, a kiss that was simple and warm. You closed your eyes and felt each other. Then both of you moved your hands, yours into his hair and up his back, his by your cheek and cupping the top of your head. “God damn,” he sighed and plunged, both of you taking deep, inhaling breaths as you gripped your bodies and opened your mouths for each other, your tongues greeting kindly. It rolled and hummed and ended in happy pecks.

Eventually, you cleaned yourselves up and got comfortable again, Dean lying beside you much like he had before. When Sam came out of the bathroom he dropped himself into the other bed.

“Sam,” you lifted your head to talk to him, “you’re awesome.”

“Hmm,” he smiled. “Thanks Y/N. You too. Sorry, but that’s going in the bank.” He opened his eyes and gave you’re a friendly smile. “I think my brother is crushing on you.”

“Oh shit,” you bit your lip.

“Shaddup Sam,” Dean groaned, he rolled you into him and wrapped his limbs around yours.

“No,” you grunted, “just… crushing me.”

Dean looked down at you and eased off a little. “How’s that? Good.”

“Yes, excellent.”

“Good,” he kissed you again. “Sleep.”

You lay there for a few beats, feeling him against you in a new way, and looked forward to waking up to it. “Thanks for the room guys.”

Sam huffed a laugh. Dean’s hum bounced as he smoothed you hair down and kissed your head. “I’m glad I met you,” he murmured, “No matter what.”

“Me too,” you replied, kissing his chest where you lay, “Thank Garth.”


End file.
